


Ritual of Victory

by aurumdalseni (kyo_chan)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Haxus lives!, M/M, Sendak for Emporor!, Sendaxus, Sexus - Freeform, let's just keep the AU train rolling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-06
Updated: 2019-05-06
Packaged: 2020-02-27 09:34:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18736390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyo_chan/pseuds/aurumdalseni
Summary: The night before Sendak is to battle for the Empire at the Kral Zera, Haxus prepares a special ritual. It’s been buried by centuries of warfare and quintessence, but he remembers. He will send his commander into battle with all the honor and treatment he’s due.





	Ritual of Victory

**Author's Note:**

> This is a very long overdue commission for lotors-saltwife, who is a person of infinite patience to have put up with such a long wait. I'm very grateful for the understanding and hope you enjoy this! This is such a good ship.
> 
> Shout-out to Flick, who was kind enough to beta for my stressed self. :)

_ Kral Zera _

It has been so long since he’s heard the words, though he’s never forgotten what they mean. Haxus dims the lights in the room until everything is cast in soft shadows of purple. Sentries stand down as Haxus moves down the hall to Sendak’s quarters on the ship. There isn’t a single other lieutenant in sight. Hepta’s been instructed that as they reach the orbit around the Kral Zera host planet, Haxus and Sendak are not to be disturbed. Haxus intends to prepare him for the battle, remind him in every way that he is worthy and the one fit to be the new Emperor of the Galra Empire. 

He hates that he doesn’t have the proper ritual attire, long gone in centuries of destruction and warfare. He makes do, piecing together something just as significant from merchants and trade moons they’ve encountered along their way. It’s not exact, but it will suffice, and at the very least he has the appropriate colors. Blacks and dark greys in his tunic for royalty and leadership. Those things are not born to a Galra, they are earned in combat. Red in his sash and collar for victory —  _ vrepit sa _ . There is purple embroidery along his cuffs and the hem of the tunic. Long before the Empire became consumed by quintessence, purple represented honor. Ships had been decorated in it, officiates wore it to sit council with Emperor Zarkon, commanders wore it somewhere beneath their armor. Lastly, yellow… _ gold _ , a single chain around his neck, and dangling from it, the iridescent tip of a mazrokian ram horn. It is the prize of a hunt, Sendak’s rite of passage. (I have a very real need to draw this outfit now)

It marks Haxus as his mate.

Smiling to himself, Haxus circles the room to make sure all is prepared. He runs his hands along the pelts and comfortable blankets that make up their nest. He’s very aware of their familiar scents, his and Sendak’s. On the nearest console, a simple jar of oil and next to that a pitcher of water, a bowl of food. Actual fresh food from the last moon, not some horrible protein supplement manufactured from the ship’s galley. That will not do for a ritual night. Not for the eve of Sendak’s rise to power. Haxus intends for everything to be perfect, and if not perfect, he’ll settle for every effort to ensure it’s a night that Sendak never forgets, no matter how long he holds the throne. Haxus has not only sworn his loyalty, to always be his right hand, but as his mate, it is absolutely up to him to see that Sendak is taken care of.

“Haxus.”

He thrills down to his bones at the sound of Sendak’s low rumble. Instinctively, he lifts a hand to his chest. “Sir,” he responds, inclining his head, but not lowering his eyes. 

To most Galra, it’s just a matter of survival. When Haxus does it, he’s being cheeky. 

Sendak shows his teeth in his amusement, looking around the room. Not much has changed from its normal state, but enough that he knows Haxus truly has prepared something for him this night. “What, no incense to fill the room? Candle light?”

“Perhaps when you rule the Empire as it should be once more, there will be better means of finding such things. As it is, I’m afraid you’ll have to make do with what we have.” Haxus holds out his hand in an invitation for Sendak to draw closer. When he is within reach, Haxus grasps the top of Sendak’s breastplate and tugs him forcefully down just enough for Haxus to get in close, rub his cheek along Sendak’s jaw. He rumbles low in his throat, Sendak’s armor a  hindrancehinderance to him, and he expresses his displeasure with it by nipping the lower edge of Sendak’s ear. 

“This armor and weaponry will serve you well when you light the flame tomorrow, but for now it is merely in my way. We will remove it, Commander.”

Sendak’s mock-offended snort amuses Haxus, but he offers no resistance as Haxus sets to taking it apart piece by piece. Not very much unlike Haxus intends to take Sendak himself apart, stripping away the layers until what’s bared to him is the warrior he chose to give his life to. 

“You carry the weight of your crew, your fleet,” he begins, a cadence to his tone indicating reverence, ritual. “Every victory, every command, the passing of each who is lost, it all soaks into this armor. It protects you, but it bears down with every burden.” 

“Vrepit sa,” Sendak murmurs, his single eye closed, but his head is not bowed with the burden Haxus speaks of. He has served for so long, and yet still stands tall.

The last of his defenses is a careful and tricky process. Haxus gingerly reaches around to disengage Sendak’s left arm. The quintessence power source flickers, then vanishes, and he carries the heavy piece to where he’s lain the other parts of Sendak’s armor. Sendak is watching him now; the final step to this process always leaves him vulnerable, but by now Haxus is assured Sendak knows that trust isn’t misplaced.

“Now,” he finishes, “you can breathe.”

Sendak rolls his shoulders, watching Haxus move close to him again. It has always pleased Haxus to have his attention so thoroughly. “What do you intend to do with me now?”

Haxus looks up at him and  _ smiles _ .

/

At the heart of it all, Sendak had already known the answer.

He’s is not unused to being pushed down and bred properly. Haxus is, at heart, the most traditional Galra he’s ever known, and with good reason. He’s been living their traditions longer than the Galra have been without a home planet. He is Highborn. What that means is, in the caste of old, most wouldn’t have expected Sendak to even approach Haxus, much less court and mate him. The rise of the Empire under Zarkon’s reign had blurred the lines, all but buried generations of tradition in anything but warfare, but Haxus had never forgotten. It’s a secret they share, the exchange of power. Haxus readily accepts his role as Lieutenant and subordinate to Sendak in all matters pertaining to their fleet. But within the safe confines of their chambers, it is Haxus who takes that power back. Sendak delights in bending to it; Haxus is patient and passionate, always driving him further, always rewarding him, forever devoted. 

“I know you can do better,” Haxus murmurs, pushing just a little more. 

Sendak rumbles something that would almost be a complaint if he weren’t already swollen and dripping his need. He shifts his weight, accounting for the lack of it on his left side, leaning on his right arm while he opens his knees wider. He gives up any of his remaining bratty resistance and lowers himself completely to the nest, laying his head down on his arm and surrendering his ability to see Haxus. He’s given himself over to trust, vulnerable and hungry, offering his mate all of him. There’s no hiding how eager he is to give it either, spread and rocking back and forth. Haxus is able to do as he pleases, draped over him, and it’s torment of the best kind, a state of being no one but Haxus is allowed to bring him to. 

Haxus has already taken him once, and Sendak knows he’s got much more ahead of him. He’d been allowed to feel Haxus’s knot, a teasing press of the swell with every thrust, but never all of it. He’ll eventually be allowed that pleasure, but only when Haxus deems it the right time, and not a moment sooner. He wonders if he’ll sleep at all before he takes to battle at the Kral Zera. In the end, it won’t matter either way, he will be victorious and seal the ritual by lighting the flame.

He groans as Haxus’s thrusts become quicker and sharper, revels in the wet heat filling him once more. He leaks on the pelts below him, aching for more, but satisfied to have coaxed another climax out of Haxus. Still no knot, and Haxus withdraws slowly, deliberately, watching his seed slide down the insides of Sendak’s thighs, wetting his fur. Sendak is certain he can feel Haxus’s gaze without seeing it for himself, the tender stroking along the base of his spine is fond, possessive. Sendak is owned by this noble Galra, and somehow that makes him feel more powerful than not. He would tear down the universe and rebuild the Empire for him, and that is exactly what this ritual is for. 

Haxus settles himself next to Sendak’s head, patting his thigh. “Come,” he orders.

Doing as he’s bidden, Sendak shifts with a growl, the ache of being filled fresh and leaving him wanting more. He’s still hard, straining as he lays on his side to rest his head in Haxus’s lap. The first breath after is jolting, glancing just beyond to see Haxus still slick with oil and come, knot heavy. He’s nowhere near finished and putting Sendak like this is an intentional reminder of such. Sendak can already feel himself slipping, the need spreading out like fire through his chest, narrowing his focus to nothing other than Haxus and whatever it will take to have more.

Haxus feeds him then, gives him water and food both from his hand. He surrenders even that control.

“Let this feed your strength, stoke the fire within you that will spark the flame as you take your rightful place,” Haxus murmurs, drawing Sendak’s focus, reminding him of what’s to come. “You have fought and trained and lived for this moment. As a Commander of unquestionable Galra heritage, the former Emperor’s chosen champion, you have all but sealed your future as the leader of our people. At your side, a steady rock I will be. Upon which you will sharpen your blade, build your empire and rest when weary. I will watch you rise, Sendak.”

“Yes,” Sendak answers. Simple truth, simple response. 

Pleased, Haxus strokes his face, the scars on his shoulders and chest. Sendak rumbles, surrounded by the heady scent and feel of both of them. Carried on the ritual words, he leaves himself ready for anything more Haxus may ask or demand of him. 

So when Haxus runs his claws down one cheek and growls a soft ‘Again,’ Sendak moves immediately back to hand and knees to offer himself. Here, Haxus tends his own flame, having lit it at the altar within Sendak decaphoebs ago. And tomorrow, when Sendak steps into the Kral Zera, he intends to win.

He will win.


End file.
